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“Yes.”
The air in the car thickens and rage coils low in my gut.
“Stay on him. But do not engage with him.”
“Yes, boss.”
I hang up.
As the car pulls into the private airstrip, I walk toward my jet. Each step cuts sharper than the last. My head swirls with betrayal and fire.
“Tell the pilot,” I tell Pavel, “we’re going to Los Angeles.”
His brows shoot up. “What’s in LA?”
I climb the stairs without answering.
But in my head, the answer is clear.
The woman I should never have touched.
The woman I can’t stop wanting.
The woman who’s carrying another man’s child.
And the man who may just pay the price for getting too close to that woman.
16
TARA
The Dean’s office is a blend of old-world charm and modern elegance, with mahogany shelves lined with books and a sleek glass desk at the center. He rises as I enter, his smile warm and welcoming.
“Miss Craft, it's a pleasure to meet you. Your recommendations are nothing short of stellar.”
“Thank you, Dean,” I reply, shaking his hand firmly.
He gestures for me to sit, and we discuss my academic achievements, aspirations, and the potential role at UCLA. Despite not having my final results yet, he seems confident.
“I have no doubt you'll excel. Let's proceed with setting up the formal interviews if you’re happy to do so.”
I’m buzzing as I leave his office, and the reality of the opportunity begins to sink in. This time next year, I could be lecturing here.
Happy? I’m practically floating. Is this really happening? UCLA. A real future. Maybe even a career that doesn’t revolve around secrets, puzzles, or fake names. Maybe.
My eyes land on Konstantin, standing near the glass wall, tall and sharp in his suit. He sees me, and his posture shifts—upright, alert, but relaxed in the way only someone like him can be. My heart hitches. My stomach flutters. God help me.
“Miss Craft,” the Dean says beside me. “I look forward to seeing you back here soon.”
Konstantin turns and approaches. His presence is commanding, and my heart skips a beat.
Konstantin holds out his hand to the Dean. “Konstantin Romanov. I’m a friend of Miss Craft’s.”
The Dean’s eyes light up. “Are you related to Melor Romanov?”
“He was my uncle.”
“A wonderful man. The Melor Romanov Trust has done more for this city’s hospitals and universities than most philanthropists combined.”